Baeza in Three Dimensions. Holiday Notes. Bermejo at Latinopia. On-line Floricanto for Mid-December

During a studio conversation last November with Armando Baeza (link) , the sculptor emphasized the difficulty he experiences to change the size of a successful piece. At the same time, the soon-to-be 93 years old artist lamented the impact of age on his hands and fingers, how he grows fatigued in the process of carving mud and wax to fashion the molds he takes to the foundry to be cast in bronze.

Mario Guerrero offered a technological solution: scan the work and let 3D software enlarge, or shrink, the object. Print the file on a 3D printer and use that to make the mold. The east LA native said, “show me.” Recently, that’s what Guerrero did, joined by his wife Angel, along with Mario Trillo and Michael Sedano, when Raul and Armando Baeza came to Casa Guerrero to experience 3D technology.

Raul and Armando listen intently to Mario's overview of the 3D system

Guerrero, an industrial educator and CAD/CAM software industry veteran, explains he’s still in the process of mastering the software and affiliated hardware, but has advanced to a point he and Armando can collaborate on a scanning and printing project.

The weekday meeting illustrated the start-to-finish process by scanning a bust of Armando, crunching it in various software packages, and launching the 3D printer.

Earlier in the week, Guerrero had printed a scan of his grandson, which he handed to Armando. The sculptor immediately began a wish-list of projects: "What have they done to the rain?", the monumental fountain at Pico Rivera city hall made small, Baeza’s “Emerging Power” made large, a new cast of the complex two-figure sculpture awarded to the bilingual educator of the year, pure silver—or gold--mini-figures for charm bracelets and jewelry. The others chimed in with favorite ideas of their own. All agreed this technology will serve delightfully to advance Baeza's art.

Using a hand-held scanner, Mario created a bust of Armando. Raul, who is his dad’s apprentice, shared the excitement at the possibilities of the technology and the advantages over the existing state of the art.

Scanned data whizzes into the computer and in a few seconds the screen populates with a three-dimensional virtual object that rotates with a finger touch. This software allows the operator to edit out random noise and provide clean edges.

Raul rotates his dad's 3D scan as Armando takes a foto

The image is processed in preparation for printing

Guerrero transfers the image file from that first computer to a second device where the data are compiled into a format that he feeds through a third software bundle that prepares the file for the printer. Mario transfers this file to a thumb drive that he plugs into the 3D printer. Depending on the resolution in the file and printer capacity, the printer lays down the figure in layers of plastic material that can be .0006” high.

As currently set up, Armando hand sculpts several versions of a figure over hundreds of hours, until the final modèle goes to the foundry. When he enlarges a work, Armando notes he inevitably changes features of the piece so the two are never identical. Sometimes that's good, other times not as satisfying.

Using 3D technology, the sculptor can fashion a single version, scan it, edit it, print it, and make the wax modèle in less than a week. Reproducing a finished bronze piece would require a single day to scan and print at the desired size. And they would be identical, except for size.

An intriguing possibility is no clay sculpting. Guerrero has acquired a haptic mouse that trained hands like Armando’s can learn to manipulate and sculpt in empty space, the image appearing in three dimensions on the computer screen!

Holiday Neighborhood Market on Saturday, Dec. 17th in Los Angeles' Elysian Valley, or Frogtown as local gente have always called it. This includes Ron Arias, whose collection The Wetback and Other Stories features this riverside enclave. Arias will be at the sale with The Wetback.

Tonight
the Rock remains Standing
defiant
in its grace
I can hear the drums
in
the
four
winds
echoing
off the river’s moving heart
the sound
of victory song chanting
the black snake will not burrow its
poisonous mouth
beneath the ever-stream of life
and the bodies of Water Protectors
will sleep in the warmth of knowing
a shift has been made
smoke rises a new consciousness of hope in chaos
a triumph with rippling implications
there is no going back from this
this is a new treaty of hope
this is a white buffalo woman tilt on the side of light
the scales weigh heavy tipped dark
but tonight
there is movement
there is dance
there are drums
a circle of peace warriors cry freezing tears of joy
upon each others’ tired shoulders
a country’s history
looks
350 native tribes
in the eyes
and for a moment
mouths the words “I’m sorry”
through the lines of permits and political statements
the black snake is blind for the night

this battle is won
the war continues
nothing can penetrate
the peaceful will of the water protectors
not rubber bullets
not pepper spray
not water cannons in hypothermic conditions
not incoming (un)presidential corporate figureheads
not militarized attacks on unarmed patriots of the planet
let it be known
the water protectors are protected by a higher force

these sacred keepers
these ancient warriors have returned
to claim the land of their people
yes it’s true
many have faltered against the forces of greed
but as a whole
there was more resilience
there was a battle cry that echoed worldwide
there was the coming together of tribes
who lit a fire of change so bright
it lights the way for humanity
tonight
earth mother
lays her hands upon
the Oceti Sakowin Camp
she hums the vibration
of the planets and stars
into tepees and yurts
the children
smile in their sleep

the snow that blankets
beneath the feet
of these indigenous warriors of light
holds the vibrations
of conflict and coming together
of pain and of promise
of prayer and of deliverance
this snow
is the foundation
of a long winter’s falling piling up
the waiting of a nation
witnessing the changing of the guard into
what may be the darkest times
but come spring
the snow at Standing Rock
will
melt
will
become the water
so desperately fought for
the water
which holds a story of solidarity
that will rush down through
all the rivers and tributaries
rush to the lowest points of creation
and
lift up again
into the ocean of man’s collective consciousness

a story of overcoming
a story of fighting peacefully the good fight
a story of listening to the wisdom of elders
a story a prayer and protectors (not protestors)
a story of men and women with hearts of eagles
a story held there now in the collecting winter snow

the crystals of ice
became mirrors of (in)humanity
the indignity offered to our brothers
did you offer
your hand
your voice
your body
your heart

the snow
at Standing Rock
will become
a water history
that runs its path
that rises to the sky
that moves through us
that we breathe in and back out
that will evaporate into the clouds
and rain down in particles of truth
telling us that we are in this together
that earth is a finite home unless we stand in her defense

tonight
I can hear the drums (my heart)
in the four winds
water
moves
through us
with each breath
the Rock remains Standing for us all

Min Wiconi#NoDAPL #Waterislife

Stormcutter: The Morning After the Election By César L. de León

What now? Do I go back into the closet? Build a secret door I can escape through on holidays? Let friends in if they know the secret password? How will I know they are friends?

I've heard people have begun wearing a safety pin on their shirts to identify themselves as allies for LGBTQ, Muslims, immigrants, and refugees.

Do I buy safety pins? Wear one when I go out and about? Is that enough? Will this mark me as a target?

Do I buy a gun to protect myself, my loved ones? If I go buy one should I wear something camouflage? Do I accessorize with an American flag? Is a Confederate flag too much? Do I eye everyone suspiciously when I walk into the gun store? Or do I joke about niggers, fags, wetbacks, and ragheads?

I've never shot a gun in my life and last night I dreamt I shot a man, shot him right in the mouth. He bled waves of black oil.

Do I shave my head? Shave my dark mustache and beard? If it was blonde I wouldn't be asking. Do I cover my skin and let it pale under layers of clothing this winter? Do I cut the hoods out of all my hoodies?

Do I cut out my tongue so it doesn't betray me through mispronounced words and dangerous accents?

Do I cut off my feet so I don't run if they chase me? They can't say I was fleeing or resisting if I don't have feet. Can they? They can.

Do I pluck out my witness eyes?

Do slice the fingers off my writing hand?

Do I lock myself up in the closet like mamá did when we were young and storms got bad?

No.

I remember grandmother telling us that when she was young and storms threatened the farm they would take the sharpest knife they had in the kitchen, walk outside into the wind, and draw an X with the blade across the darkest part of the storm, yelling "aquí no!"

Cortar tormentas she called it.
That is what I will do.

Mni WiconiBy Iris De Anda

There is a black snake

slithering in the shadows

of sacred stones

There is a white people

sleeping in the illusion

of oil oblivion

There is a rainbow warrior

rising in the sun

of pachamamas prophecy

There is you & I

at a crossroads

so choose

water is life

Agua Es Vida

mni wiconi

So Tired Of Being MadJackie Joy

I am so tired of being mad
fighting for a space in this all white America
thinking I had a voice
but every time I spoke
I could hear the pitter patter in the distance
of someone typing,
"Well, actually...."

I want to say
that being a child of immigrants
that being a woman
after fighting the last 6 years
for better education
for the environment
for women's health
that

I am so tired of being mad
I just want to exist
without explaining
and not be mad
and just live in an America
where half an America doesn't hate
the idea of me
a college educated, liberal
who is also a woman of color
a child of immigrants
a poet and an activist.

I am so tired of being mad
here, you can have it
my anger, my sadness, my fight
because I am so tired of being mad

We Move Like StoneJo Reyes-Boitel

we move like stone
through our days

stone
cracked into fire

uncontrollable wilderness
falling from the edge of our land
into sand crystals

in all that is allowed of us
we are crushed, split open
like pomegranate

our hands separate
into fingers
tips lose themselves
and we crumble into softness

César L. de León is a lifelong resident of the Rio Grande Valley in south Texas. His poetry has been published in various anthologies and journals. In 2014, César was awarded 2nd place for Literary Magazine Poem from the Texas Intercollegiate Press Association, and in 2012 he was awarded 3rd place in the Golden Circle Awards from The Columbia Scholastic Press Association. Currently, he is an MFA candidate in creative writing with a certificate in Mexican American studies at The University of Texas Rio Grande Valley.

Jackie Joy Ho-Shing is a bi-Racial, Multi-Cultural vegan, feminist, writer, animal and human lover, living life one nap at a time. Border Texan born and raised who loves pop culture, coffee and taking pictures of her food.